


FORSAKEN

by lauriestrode



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Azula Joins Team Avatar, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor Sokka/Suki, Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauriestrode/pseuds/lauriestrode
Summary: Despite Princess Azula's prodigious firebending capabilities and well-developed knowledge of military tactics, Fire Lord Ozai remains intent on molding his eldest son, the Crown Prince Zuko, into the prized heir she wishes she could be. With her mother long gone, having been abandoned to her own devices within the Palace for years, and a tentative relationship with her Uncle Iroh, a conflicted Azula on her newfound journey to locate the Avatar begins to discover that, perhaps, she does not have to remain in her father's shadow any longer.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	FORSAKEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourteen-year-old Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, accompanied by her Uncle Iroh and an assembled team of military officials, has been at sea for three years after her father, Fire Lord Ozai, has sent her away from the Capital on a mission to locate and capture the elusive Avatar. While she remains persistent in her travels, her state of mind gradually continues to crumble as she comes to recall the depravity of her childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter TW: Panic attacks, referenced past child abuse, mentions of genocide, mentions of parental/familial alienation, SLIGHT self-harm.

Pai Sho had never particularly been one of Princess Azula's many strong suits. A firebending prodigy and calculated tactician she was, but her patience was oftentimes limited to battle strategies and stomaching her uncle's vague proverbs — that is, endeavors wherein such patience would truly be tested. There was no real reward, Azula often thought as she would carefully place another piece, in winning _these_ sorts of games. Except, she would think again as Iroh's brow would furrow and his shoulders would tense in the slightest suggestion of agitation, that it would keep the foolish old general from bothering the rest of the crew with his old fairytales as the ship sailed its course towards the Southern Water Tribe. At least that's what Azula tells herself, once more, during another one of their many games. It's certainly not because she enjoys spending time with Uncle Iroh, as she much rather prefers the company of her family favorite: the great Fire Lord Ozai, and she tells Uncle as much.

"I bet Father would be a much more challenging Pai Sho opponent." Azula casually mentions as she finishes her turn, pointedly ignoring her Uncle's sigh of exasperation at being subjected to another of her quips aimed at his expense, "Don't you think so, too, Uncle? Although, I do think he wouldn't indulge much in such meaningless games, if he's ever played at all. I suppose at a rudimentary level, some of the strategies employed here may be executed in his plans to conquer cities of other Nations."

Per usual, Uncle doesn't immediately respond. Azula is usually quick with her own retorts, but she respects the value of taking the time to speak your piece to the opposition - if you're not having fire lapping at your feet and tickling at your cheeks, of course. She's experienced her fair share of dueling with other Royal children. Fortunately for him, she doesn't think poor Zuzu at home would take kindly to her burning his beloved uncle. Sometimes, she wonders if he loves their uncle more than their father. He would be foolish to. 

If Iroh senses the bitterness that has suddenly overtaken her thoughts, he doesn't speak of it. His impassive gaze and relaxed posture rivals hers, but there's something else brewing in his eyes. It's not something he's thought of to beat Azula in Pai Sho, she surmises easily enough, and it's not the inklings of kindle that burn bright, _sharp,_ in her own eyes — it's pity. She hates when he has that damned look in his eyes, knowing he's seen through her near-immaculate, carefully-crafted facade once again. However, he will _only_ see it in her eyes as the corners of her mouth lift into a smile. She will continue to humor him. "My apologies, Uncle. You are wonderfully knowledgeable in your own right." 

"You flatter me so, Princess Azula." Uncle responds, but his own tone is almost humorless. She had clearly struck a nerve, but perhaps not because she had insulted his skills. Azula certainly knows she has a tendency to upset him, and she thinks he would prefer the company of another particular member of their family, too. She steadily recalls a gala when she was barely more than a toddler, where he had approached the Crown Prince. The young boy had been lurking on the outskirts of the royal gathering that, much to his relief, had ceased to trail after him with questions about his firebending tutelage under the Fire Lord. She had been watching from Mother's side as the older man had placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder and said something with an encouraging smile, to which her brother had excitedly responded to with unbecoming hand gestures. Azula had not looked at her Mother as her eyes had remained fixated on their entire exchange, but she remembers slowly glancing to the left afterward to see her father standing alongside members of the Royal Court, uninterested in their conversation, glaring at Uncle's back as he retreated back into the crowd. 

Iroh finally places his piece, and Azula's sharply leaves his eyes and follows his hand movements as it slides across the board. _What is this?_ He's taken one of her tiles, and her smile falters. How could she not have predicted her well-versed uncle would have taken advantage of such a vulnerable placement? It wasn't a risky move, it was _foolish,_ and she —

"Unfortunately," Her eyes sharply raise to Iroh's as he speaks again, "My brother was never quite fond of Pai Sho because he could never truly be as patient as you. We had only played a few games when we were young men, and during the last one, he had set my board on fire because he had lost again." The old man frowned, then, pronouncing the wrinkles around his eyes, and his hands left the board so his fingers could stroke the end of his beard in quiet contemplation. "It was my favorite board..." 

Azula's eyes narrow, just briefly. "I find it hard to believe my father has lost in any regard." She tries to ignore the sliver of smug satisfaction she feels at the thought of her father throwing a tantrum over _Pai Sho,_ of all the losses a Fire Lord should be angered by in the midst of a century-long war. It runs in the family, she supposes. She's had her few bouts of spewing flame from her throat in response to her own uncontrollable agitation, and she's heard flitting rumors of Zuko's shaping temper from gossiping servants. They would always be caught. A shame, really. Azula thinks that _she_ should have been the one to punish such unruly staff, but she found out quite early she didn't particularly care about what happened within the Royal Palace... unless she could gather some desperately-desired intel on the "inner circle", of course. That's what she had titled those consisting of the Royal Court, high-ranking military, and of course, her father and Zuko. 

Mai and Ty Lee had also enjoyed hearing about such secrets, in the scarce moments that the three would have together by the Palace pond. She misses those girls. 

As quickly as those thoughts arise, however, she stifles them so as to keep her attention on her Uncle. 

Iroh's response, much to her relief, comes in that instance. Her relief doesn't last. "You would be surprised, Princess Azula." He says, a fleeting distraction, and that is the last of their conversation before Azula resumes her attention to the game before her. _You would be surprised_ echoes in her mind, and she imagines her father in her place at this very moment. As the Fire Lord, her father naturally had far more important duties to attend to than to babysit Uncle, of course, but imagining the two siblings playing a game together... she decides she _must_ pen letters to Mai and Ty Lee ( _yes,_ she thinks with a sort of dread in her gut, _they are most important —_ allies _— to me_ ) at her earliest convenience. Being around her Uncle and the other grown men on the ship, low-class Fire Nation citizens at that, was affecting her unfavorably. Although she had not seen her two closest _— allies,_ she repeats sternly _—_ in some time, she was certain that reading their pleas for her return would soothe her agitation with being at sea and overseeing such an... _unusual_ mission. 

_You must find the Avatar,_ Father's voice echoes in her thoughts. Given the Fire Nation's past efforts, Azula was uncertain about if there even _was_ an Avatar anymore. She had been particularly attentive during her history lessons at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, and she knew that Fire Lord Sozin, her great-grandfather, had caused the death of Avatar Roku. Knowing that Air was next and as a means to disrupt the cycle, Sozin had proceeded with the eradication of the Air Nomads and the desecration of their temples. The few airbenders that had avoided or fled the initial attack were lured by traps, or tracked down, alongside a variety of many of the Fire Nation's other methods — but their end was always the same. It had been one hundred years since the Air Nomad Genocide, and there had not even been a single rumor of an Avatar in any of the Nations. 

_Not genocide,_ that voice says again, and it still sounds like Father. _It was a necessary sacrifice to preserve the Fire Nation's future._ She has heard many explanations, many _variations_ of explanations, of what happened to the Air Nomads. Anyone who had spoken about the topic unfavorably, especially anyone who would use the word _genocide,_ would have been promptly punished. _Executed,_ another voice in her head supplies. It sounds like Mother. She's surprised she still remembers the voice of the coward who had killed her grandfather and fled in the night. That was certainly one piece of "intel" she wishes she could scrub from her memory, but she's grateful that her knowledge of the incident prevented another unanswered question that she would dwell upon, late at night.

... Sometimes, Azula wishes she had gone with her. Zuko certainly did, but Zuko was still at the Fire Nation Capital, enduring Father's rigorous efforts to mold his eldest son into the cold, heartless, prized future Fire Lord that he could not be.

_Is that what she truly sees Father as?_

Uncle is still considering his next move, but Azula's mind remains in the past. The rumors were once only known to select Fire Nation Capital elite, but now the truth of the matter regarding her older brother's firebending capabilities have come to light, given Lo and Li's most recent letter. When they were children, Azula was always the more accomplished of the two. She had been the first to produce a flame as an infant when she'd nearly burned her wet nurse, had quickly taken to more advanced firebending maneuvers and styles, and she studied hard and learned well of the Fire Nation's history and developing battle strategies for future use. It had never been enough for Father. Although he would praise her for her many talents, his attention would quickly return to Zuko and directing his son towards an equal measure of skill _— no,_ for Zuko to be _greater_ than her. Her own mother thought she was a monster for idolizing her father and kept her distance, but her father prioritized her idiot brother over the prodigy. 

Several sparks emerge from her nostrils, and an alarmed Iroh darts up from his seat and yelps. "Princess Azula! It would be a very great shame for another board to be destroyed during a game!" 

They dissipate into smoke, and Azula sighs. "I'm sorry, Uncle." This time, she means it. "I am simply... disappointed at the moment."

 _In Father_ remains unspoken, but by the way Iroh's brows knit together in the returning look of sympathy, he knows. He leans forward. "Azula," He begins, and for once she's too exhausted to comment on his lack of her title, "I know you are upset with your father for sending you on this mission. You believe that the Avatar is gone, and you wish to return home. I understand you feel especially strongly about the fact that you can't." 

_You believe_ echoes faintly in her mind, but once again, she does not currently possess the urge to prod him further about his suspicious choice of wording. She imagines that an old man like Iroh, the long-retired Dragon of the West who spent his time collecting odd artifacts of other Nations and fiddling with his odd White Lotus tile, knows as much as she does about the Avatar's whereabouts. 

She snorts instead, carefully shoving that long-lasting bitterness into the back of her thoughts, where it has, and will always remain. "An understatement," Azula spits in return, "My brother is undergoing training for what I have already mastered, and I'm essentially stuck with old fools chasing a long-gone legend." 

Proceeding to cross her arms stubbornly over her chest and twisting away from her uncle's gaze, she huffs another sigh. "I don't understand why _I_ am here. This would be a much better test for Zuko." 

The floorboard underneath them groans as Iroh lifts himself from his seat and takes a few steps away from the Pai Sho board. She still refuses to look at him, but guesses he's making _more_ tea. She's never understood his fervent fascination with tea. Sure, it tastes good when done properly, which is certainly no difficult task for Uncle, but whenever she's gotten into another one of foul moods, he begins to make her tea. They both share the same favorite flavor: jasmine and ginseng. How amusing is it, she thinks, that the sourest girl in the Fire Nation likes sweet tea. 

"Don't say that," Ty Lee had said once, eyes wide, when Azula had made a similar self-deprecating joke then. She had looked to Mai beside her for encouragement, only to scowl when the corners of the girl's lips were upturned. Azula and Mai were always quite fond of the more atypical, disturbing, uses of humor. Seeing that she was alone in her opinion of the subject, then, Ty Lee had pursed her lips and taken the former's hand in her own. "Azula," She had said fondly, "You're too _amazing_ to talk about yourself like that!"

Mai had taken the opportunity to interject. "You gotta admit that's she's right," She had said in the soft voice on hers, in those formative years before the complexities on her own family matters had rendered her nearly unable to properly process and express her own emotions. That's just Azula's interpretation, of course, however harsh it is. She imagines the girl had her own reservations about the ruins of the family Azula grew up with. 

"What makes you think the Fire Lord is testing you?"

Azula blinks, and their faces are gone. Gradually rolling her shoulders, taking note of the sudden tension in her form, she takes a moment to consider his question. She sneers. She feels angry about having to discuss this again with _him._ She sharply turns back to face him. There's that unconcealed, wild look in her eyes, she knows, but at this moment, she doesn't care. Perhaps she should. "You're _right,_ Uncle, he's _not_ testing me. My father has found the perfect excuse to send me away so he can keep wasting his teachings on my useless brother —"

Azula has gotten carried away, and has just insulted the Fire Lord.

Her response is almost mechanical, nearly muscle memory — from _years_ and _years_ of sharp tongues addressing her, fire lapping at her skin, and thinly-veiled threats from silvery voices. With a stuttering gasp, she collapses back into her chair (she didn't even realize that she'd stood up and was shouting, dear Agni, who had _heard?_ ) and stares at her uncle with wide eyes. "Uncle," she rasps, nearly unable to speak coherently but just enough to echo a once-repressed memory, "I spoke dearly out of turn and am due to reap the consequences of my words. Please be merciful in your punishment." 

The tea is forgotten as Uncle fully turns to face her upon her abrupt addition to her response, and he looks at her like she has grown a turtleduck for a head. "Punishment?" He echoes, alarmed. "Why would I punish you, Princess Azula?"

The sudden use of her title, emphasizing the sense of detachment in their relationship that she suddenly, startingly, recalls, unintentionally stings. "I was insulting the Fire Nation in its entirety," Azula hisses, her throat trembling with exertion, and she finds her fingers clawing at the skin as she feels nearly unable to speak from the sudden onslaught of the _fear_ she feels. Iroh seems to grow further unsettled by her mannerisms and takes a cautious step forward, but the Princess rapidly shakes her head and pushes her feet down onto the floorboards, dragging her chair further backward. " _Don't!_ You must punish me, General Iroh!"

If he will use her title, she will use his. Distantly, she recalls another series of punishments she had received for speaking out of turn to respected military officials. Nevermind that he is her uncle — she imagines several more lashings for this new transgression. There's a flicker of an image in her mind, of Iroh, his usually soft expression twisted into malice as the guards before him ready themselves for her torture. _Torture? No,_ punishment. That reminder still hasn't been burned into yet, she supposes. 

"Azula," Iroh calls, firmly but gently, and she hears him take another step towards her, stepping around the table separating them. Unable to look him in the eyes any further after her repeated disgraces, her head crumbles into her withdrawn arms. She whimpers, then, when through a gap in her arm, she can see her Uncle's shadow overtaking her form. Azula remembers similar moments — her legs or arms (or sometimes, usually, _both_ ) would tremble with new burns after. Out of all her encounters with members of the Royal Court, she imagines the infamous Dragon of the West would be one of the least forgiving. _Shouldn't have called him an old fool, dumdum —_

Contrary to what she expects, he places a warm, _non-burning,_ hand on her shoulder. It almost burns, she thinks, in the way that she's so startled by the softness of his touch that her arms jerk away in surprise. He releases his hold as she raises herself to face him again unsteadily, eyes blinking rapidly. 

"What was that, Uncle?' Azula demands, and the fire in her eyes has returned once more. _Don't speak out of turn,_ a familiar voice commands, but there is a foggier, distant memory of a kinder voice, that urges her to continue. _You tell him, Zuli._ "I committed an act of defiance against the Fire Nation by insulting the Fire Lord. As a greatly respected, high-ranking military official of our such Nation, I should be _punished!"_

_⚫⚫⚫_

It's almost childlike, Iroh thinks unbeknownst to Azula, the way the Princess petulantly sets her foot down to emphasize her point, the alarming statement that he should torture her for a simple slip of her tongue. There's a glimpse of a tween from many forlorn, _regrettable,_ years ago, her features twisted in defiance as an Earth Kingdom doll burned between her fingertips (or so Princess Ursa's apologetic letter had claimed, much to the retired General's amusement then). He had not been particularly close to her, or even Zuko, before the death of Lu ten and the disappearance of their mother. He visited for special occasions and left gifts and letters, but he was akin to a leaf gently swaying in the breeze: there in one moment, gone away in the next. The letters he would continue to receive from his sister-in-law during his siege of Ba Sing Se would constitute as his only means to bridge the gap in his knowledge of his niece and nephew. 

There was no doubt in him that Azula had always usually excelled in what Zuko either couldn't do, or rather, couldn't do at the same level of ability. Like many Royal children, she lived lavishly and held a condescending attitude towards those she perceived as inferior to her Royal standing. Ursa described her once as particularly mischievous, constantly teasing Zuko and making ill-advised quips at the expense of others, even towards members of the Royal Court. Years later, he is still unsure if her wording in those letters portrayed a sort of meek, exasperated fondness, or bitter regret for birthing such a troublesome child.

Such unresolved mysteries will haunt him in the night, but in this moment, he returns his full attention to his niece. It is not the first time he has seen her in a feral state, eyes blown wide while her shaking hands assumed a poor imitation of a firebending stance. It will not be the last, he thinks, but Azula had always been unpredictable. If not if she loved her daughter, Iroh knows that she always feared her daughter in some capacity _—_ or rather, the implications of what the impish child could become.

 _It should have been her,_ he had once thought. The child who would have been favored by Ozai, molded into a leader worth fearing that would continue the line of succession of violent, warring Fire Lords. If not for her early displays of her firebending capabilities and renowned intelligence, but for her disposition for malevolence. When his son had died and he had retired from his military service, he had returned to the Palace to a somber nephew and a wild Princess largely left to her own devices. She had hardly changed from the girl he had (barely) known, but the biggest surprise what that she hadn't lost her loyalty to her brother and her kindness for her friends. 

Granted, even now, she had displayed loyalty to Ozai. But Iroh has traversed the seas with his niece for many moons, and he knows well enough at this point that much of how she conducts herself publicly is an act. Azula had always been careful about her portrayal, maintaining a sense of regality and ease in her mannerisms and conversations. Members of their ship and those back at home in the Capital would have many choice words for their Princess: intimidating, ruthless, with a cold heart, sharp eyes, and an unflinching, _unwavering,_ sense of precision in her forms. 

Iroh knows now that she is just a teenage girl with a fear of vulnerability and _disappointment._ Ursa was gone, and Ozai had given her mirror image a few meaningless words of encouragement and tossed her out into the seas with only a ragtag crew and a rotting ship. Anything to remove her from the shadows of the Palace, to cease the whispers and reminders of the lost potential of the forsaken Princess. 

"I am not going to punish you," Iroh finally says, a certain edge to his voice. He opens his arms, slowly, then, palms facing outwards towards her. 

Azula does not reach out for him in turn, but she cries. Iroh imagines that it is the most affection that she has been mercifully granted in a long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after weeks, i finally finished my first chapter of this new AU! this work will be exploring a deviation from canon wherein ozai, unwilling to have an unworthy male heir (projection or sexism - or how about both?), puts his favor into zuko instead of azula. with growing up with parents who both favor their son, azula grows into quite a different character. she can still be quite harsh, but has some ability to express her emotions (and she's VERY emotional.) being better friends with mai and ty lee + iroh's guidance also helps her develop her morality... not to mention that we'll see see team avatar! this fic will also contain tyzula but not a ton, it's mainly azula-centric. i LOVE feedback + please let me know if you see any errors ANDDD follow my [tumblr!](https://halfqhoul.tumblr.com/) i post my works & artwork on here. thank you! <3


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